


Catch Me If You Can

by machérie (MissingInActionSince06)



Category: Euphoria (TV 2019)
Genre: Death, Drinking, Druguse, F/M, Forced, Grinding, Nonconsensual, Reluctant, Running, chase - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23186665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissingInActionSince06/pseuds/mach%C3%A9rie
Summary: Nate Jacobs intends to have his way with Rue, but Rue is going to make him work for it. Hate sex. Non-consensual/reluctance.WARNING: DRUG USE, ALCOHOL, RAPE.
Relationships: Rue Bennett/Jules Vaughn, Rue Bennett/Nate Jacobs
Comments: 10
Kudos: 102





	1. The Chase Is Just The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Johndoe2020](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johndoe2020/gifts).



> This was requested to me by a reader from my last story. Rue and Nate are both eighteen here. There are references to drinking, drugs and partying in here, so if you find any of these subjects sensitive, please do not read.

For the first time in her life, at a party, Rue Bennet was one hundred percent sober. 

Usually, the routine was pretty set. She’d come, she’d find Fez and he’d give her something to take the edge off. Make everything nice and warm and fuzzy. But not tonight. Tonight Rue wants to remain sober. Jules isn’t here. She was, but now she’s gone. Who knows where? 

She makes herself a drink in the kitchen, taking tiny sips of it because she doesn’t really like the taste. Nothing feels the same or even looks the same without the hazy veil of drugs to shield her from the ugly realities of the world. The couple making out in the corner? The boy is pressing a knife into the girl’s side, and she’s not liking it. The two boys laughing loudly together in the kitchen? They’d just beat up a homeless kid. 

If she downs the drink now, maybe she'll be properly hammered by the time she goes home. 

And so she does. Not enough to kill her, just enough to get her buzzed. After she finishes her second Red Solo cup of mystery drink, she summons up the courage to get out into the crowd of grinding teenage bodies. Wedging herself in easily, she starts to move with the flow, move with the fast pulsing beat, a steady throb that makes her head pound but keeps her grounded. 

The song switches to a slow sensual one, and suddenly, she's uncomfortably pressed against someone. That someone grabs her arms, folding them across her chest as they force her to grind back on them. 

"Hello, Rue," a voice breathes in her ear. Her jaw tightened. Of course it had to be. Of course it had to be  _ him.  _

Nate Jacobs. 

"What do you want, Nate?" She asked, her words barely slurring. Mainly, she felt annoyed. There wasn't nearly enough alcohol in the world to be dealing with his antics. 

"To dance." 

His hands move down to her waist, settling there as he forces her to ride along with him. Rue closes her eyes, wishing that this wasn't happening. 

Then she opens them because if anyone is going to save her, get her out of this situation, it's going to have to be her. 

“Get your hands off me, Nate," she threatens, "Or I will-” 

“You’ll what?” Nate breathed into her ear, grinding his hips up against her back. “Fez isn’t here to save you now, Jules is doing God knows what, so it’s just you and me here, Princess.” 

For the first time that evening, Rue felt an ill lick of fear. Even the buzz of the alcohol ib her blood isn't enough to squash the uneasy feeling. He  _ wants  _ something, and unless his current actions are contradictory to what he wants, he wants  _ her.  _

The thought makes the area between her thighs warm a bit before she remembers what a dick he is. How he'd tried to assault her back in freshman year. 

_ Dick.  _

She moved her hips to the rhythm of his, pretending to play along, and for a moment it started to feel good. But just when she heard his soft, breathy groans in her ear, she moved out of his grasp, adding a good punch to his chest.

Weaving through the bodies of grinding teenagers and awkward antisocials standing around with drinks in hand, she raced for the door. Cold air would clear all this up. And so would a phone call to Fez, who’d fuck Nate over so good that he probably wouldn’t even think of looking at her the wrong way again. Reaching for her phone as she shoved open the back door, she started to dial Fez’s number. It was practically ingrained into her memory by this point. 

It went straight to voicemail. 

Cursing, she gave it another try. Same result. God, he was probably with Maddy again. And while she did respect his business, his need to sell drugs, because she was one of his more regular customers, now was  _ not  _ the time-

“Hi, Princess. Miss me?” 

Rue turned around, forcing herself not to scream. Nate Jacobs stood there, smirk on his face, something dangling from his hand. A handkerchief. She felt a cold knot of fear and nausea settle like a lead ball in the bottom of her throat, making it difficult to speak, but she forced the words out anyway. 

“Leave me alone.” 

“After you so harshly rejected me?” 

“So this isn’t about your stupid male ego?” She growled back, and he took a step closer, and then another step. And despite all her bravado, now was not the time to be doing this. He was 6’4, a lean mass of predator, and while Rue was hardly short ( at 5’10, she towered over most of the girls in her grade), he was also the school quarterback. A little aggression never bothered him, if the marks on Maddy’s skin told her anything. 

Another step. It occurred to her that he only had two intentions here. Rape her, or kill her. Both horrible options for either way. 

But that was only if he caught her. 

She turned and ran. 

Rue was a decidedly average athlete. There’d been a time when she was younger when all she hadn’t known was pain and misery, where she could easily beat the boys in her neighborhood in the one-hundred-meter sprint. She’d considered trying out for the track team, and then shit had happened, and she’d ended up addicted to drugs. 

Now, as she ran down the street, away from the party, away from Nate, away from all her problems, she felt free again. Relaxed in a way that she didn’t think was possible, with Nate fucking Jacobs chasing after her with God knows what intention. 

She wasn’t stupid enough to look back, but from the sounds of her heavy breathing, her flat shoes clacking against the sidewalk, and then the sound of someone  _ behind  _ her, closing in, so quickly-

She screamed as she stumbled. Probably over a patch of sidewalk. She fell. Sharp pain lanced across the bottoms of her palms and knees, and she groaned. Her eyes were shut only for a few moments but when she opened them again, Nate was looking down at her with what could only be described as a sardonic expression. 

“Had fun running?” 

“Too much,” she spat, trying to sit up. She realized she couldn’t. Panic shot through her, threatening to overtake her senses. For once, she wished she’d paid better attention in her therapy sessions when her therapist had gone over breathing exercises. She couldn’t afford to feel panicked now, not when her life depended on whether or not she could get away from this  _ maniac.  _ “But I can’t stay long. I have places to go, people to be with-” 

She yelped as something sharp and hard dug into her thigh and when she glanced down, she saw the heel of Nate’s shoe digging into the flesh there. 

“You want to continue, Princess?” 

Rue realized that she did not want to continue, not if she didn’t want him to try and do something stupid. She sat up, on her elbows because her palms were scraped and bloody. Her knees were in a similar state of ruin. Nothing  _ appeared  _ broken. 

Warily, she looked up towards Nate. “Look, if you want to kill me, do it fast, okay? I don’t want to go through pain. Just, I don’t know, a gun, if you have it, through the head, would be nice. Right here,” she tapped the center of her forehead. Nate’s face twisted into a frown. 

“I’m not here to kill you.” 

“Right, that’s why you’re chasing after me like a maniac right? Because you look like a  _ fucking  _ serial killer, Nate-” 

“Get up.” 

“What?” 

Nate grabbed her arms, hauling her to her feet. She winced, stumbling a little, but he caught her, supporting her in his arms. It wasn’t a gentle hold; his fingers dug into the skin of her arm, and she realized, with bitterness, that she wouldn’t have to rely on him for support if only he’d not decided to run after her. 

“Thanks,” she snapped, jerking her arm away from him. 

“Don’t thank me.” 

He grabbed her by the hair. She screamed in pain, but he quickly stuffed the handkerchief into her mouth, his own palm covering the opening to keep it inside. Rue screamed again, muffled against the cloth, trying to jerk away from him. She even managed to land a good hit on him; she couldn’t see where but by the grunt of pain and the way his fingers tightened his hold on her hair, making her scalp prickle with pain, she’s got him somewhere good. 

“Stop struggling,” he snarled. “Or I will kill you, Rue. Do you understand? I’ll fucking kill you!” 

Rue froze. His large arm had already moved up to her throat, whether consciously or subconsciously, it didn’t matter. One wrong move. And he’d snuff out her life just like that. 

“That’s better,” he murmured, other hand going to her other arm. He started to rub up and down her arms. The night wasn’t cold, by any means, but she was wearing an armless top, and the stark contrast of the night air to his warm skin made her shiver. 

“Maybe we should go somewhere more private.”

Rue started struggling again. If he took her somewhere else, she might not ever be able to escape. His arms grabbed her by her middle even as she kicked, lashing out at him, screaming. 

“Quiet, Rue!” He laughed. The bastard had the audacity to laugh. “You’re pretty enough that I think I’ll make an exception if I have to fuck your corpse!” 

That was it. 

Rue gave a yell, then kicked him in the thigh. Hard. He gave a shout of pain, and she yanked herself out of his arms and started to run again. This time, she didn’t bother with shoes. She didn’t care if she got some broken glass or whatever nasty shit was littering the street in her foot. She had to getaway. She had to get somewhere safe. Then, she’d call 911 and commit Nate to a mental asylum where he belonged. 

She dashed out onto the main road, hoping that if a driver happened to be passing by, they’d see her and try to help. She couldn’t hear Nate behind her and she didn’t try looking behind her. Her breathing was ragged, a burn in her legs. She could feel a stitch forming in her side. She stumbled, stubbing her toe, and a sharp flare of pain bounced up her body and down again. 

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to ignore it as she carried on. Running for her life. 

Her neighbor’s house came up ahead. He was a cop, he’d know what to do. She sprinted off the road and onto the sidewalk, stepped in front of the gate-

And then a large brown dog was lunging for her.

Rue evaded, the dogs snapping jaws missing by barely an inch.  _ Where had the dog come from, whose, what, can I make it past- _

All these thoughts jumbled in her head, but she didn’t have time be thinking. She could only  _ act. _ Wildly, she took off running again. This was her neighborhood, she should know it better than Nate, right? 

Taking a shortcut, she cut across her landlady’s front lawn. Normally, she’d be given hell for ruining the grass, the flowers and it’d be a clusterfuck trying to pay back in damages (“Those were my prized petunias! They would have gotten me thousands at an auction!”) but she was willing to pay back whatever if only she could make it back to her house safely. 

Panting, she finally managed to reach her house. Small, a little run-down and tucked away. Even her own neighborhood would prefer her family remain invisible. She had a reputation for being the type of girl that parents would discourage their kids from hanging out with. Or associating. Hell, even acknowledging her existence was a fucking crime around there parts. 

Her mother is out working a graveyard shift. The house had been empty since the death of your father, and sometimes, Rue wondered if her mother took all those shifts on purpose. The long, expensive medical bills and drugs had finally stopped coming in. There was no need for her to continue busting her ass unless she didn’t want to come home to an empty house. Normally, she wouldn’t mind, but now was one of the times she needed her mother to be at home, and she wasn’t there. 

Pulling out her house keys from her secret hiding spot underneath the potted plant on the front porch, she jammed them into the lock desperately. Shoving her way inside, she locked and bolted the door firmly. Then, she threw all the shades down and checked the backdoor. Going upstairs, she did a thorough sweep of the house. It was paranoid and probably completely unnecessary because Nate didn’t even know where she lived. But still. Every little shadow made her flinch. Every little noise seemed to be amplified. Was it really just a raccoon outside or was it Nate, making his way to the front door, ready to kick it in and-

Rue choked back a sob. God, her life was such a fucking nightmare. Ever since her father had passed away, everything had fallen to pieces. Even Fez was acting weirder, distant, almost. Jules had ditched her. Maybe it was the kiss. A month ago, she and Jules had gone to the library together, not really to study, just to kick some shit, talk a little too loudly and get yelled at by the librarian. And the moment had just been oh-so-perfect, and she’d leaned in and brushed Jules lips. A feather-light kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. The kiss might have weirded her out. They hadn’t talked about it at all, and Jules had appeared normal. 

Until tonight, when she’d asked for space. And then Rue hadn’t seen her for the rest of the party. 

Maybe she should try and call Rue. 

She reached for her phone and realized it wasn’t there.  _ Fuck.  _ It must have fallen out of her pocket. When she’d fallen? Or when she’d been running? It didn’t matter now. It was gone. 

Sighing, Rue ran a hand through her hair. Frizzed up from the running and Nate’s tugging, she attempted to comb it out. Make herself presentable. Presentable for what? There was no one here to see. Despair washed over her. Maybe it was a way for her to regain control. If the one thing she could control in her hectic life was her hair, she’d take it. 

She went downstairs to get the first-aid kit from the cabinet above the sink. Washing her hands, and cleaning the cuts on her knee with a wet paper towel, she put on some ointment. Wrapping her hands, bandages on both knees, she feels a little better now. But still not the old Rue. The Rue who was in control of her life.

Her eyes flicker to the locked cabinet above the stove. No. It’s wrong. Her father’s body is barely  _ cold  _ in the grave and here she is, pilfering his meds. So wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong-

She squeezes her eyes shut and sets to work picking open the lock. 

It’s easier than she thought. Her mother never bothers to change her password, and she’s set the same numerical password for, well, pretty much everything since Rue was eight. Zero-five-zero-eight-six-six. 

Sure enough, the lock clicks open and Rue is holding the pill in her hand. A larger dose than needed, because she’s developed a tolerance. Maybe tonight will be the night she ODs and finally dies. The thought makes her smile, a little. 

She downs it, dry. It slides down her throat uncomfortably. 

It’ll take a while for the effects to set in. She goes back into the living room and crashes out on the couch, turning on the TV. Flipping lazily through the channels, nothing good on this late at night, as she allowed her muscles to relax. A slow grin spreads across her face. Everything was alright. Everything was good. 

She’s just drifting in and out of consciousness (less, next time, she reminds herself) when she hears a voice and a warm hand move up her leg. 

“What you watching there, Princess?” 


	2. Fruits of Labor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Nonconsensual, drug use, drug rape, reluctance.
> 
> A/N: Shorter than the last chapter. Might add/update some more later.

“Fuck off, Nate,” she mumbles, trying to move out of his grasp. It doesn’t work. She feels pressure around her legs, not painful yet but with the promise of pain to come if she didn’t comply. 

“Are you high, Princess?” 

“Fuck does it look like.” 

She hears him laugh, deep and rumbling. “You’re high as a kite, Princess. On what? Heroin?” 

Rue scowled. “Oxy,” she replies, not even sure why she was bothering to humor him so much. She doesn’t want to fucking have to look at him, much less talk to him. “Can you get out of my house? My mom’s going to be home soon.” 

“That’s alright. I’ll be quick.” 

Maybe it was the oxycontin in her system, but when his hands start to creep further up her thigh, she doesn’t slap them away. Not immediately. Everything felt so warm and relaxed and good that she doesn’t want to ruin it. Not yet, at least. She feels the brush of his knuckle against the seat of her panties, and then a tug as he moved them off to the side. Suddenly, his finger was crooked inside. She gives a harsh exhale, trying to shift out of his grasp, but her movements are slow and inhibited. What surprises her the most was the lack of pain. She feels him move in further, and then give a low chuckle. 

“Goddamn it, you’re so wet. Is this turning you on?” 

Rue doesn’t answer, eyes decidedly fixed on the television screen in front of her. She’s still relaxed, but the drowsiness was fast fading, replaced by alertness. Despite this, the drug’s effect still keeps her slow, unable to process anything quickly. 

He hitches a finger, then adds another, angling both towards a spot inside of her that he hadn’t before, and she gasps, moving her hips off the sofa slightly. Her cheeks burn but still, she continues in her pursuit of some late-night talk show. His finger speeds up and finally, it became too much. 

“Nate. Stop.” 

“Now you decide to talk?” He laughs. “There’s no way in hell that I’m stopping now Rue. Is this turning you on?” 

Rue shakes her head, trying to get her legs to work. Or her mouth. Or anything really. But the peak of drug use was now hitting her and she feels so drowsy and comfortable that she couldn’t even try to protest even if she wanted to. 

“Nate.” Her body seeks his fingers, and he doesn’t slow. She grips the top of the sofa, trying to hold on as something builds inside her. “Nate.”

His name comes out a strangled gasp as she comes, watching the camera pan out to a laughing audience. It’s the most intense orgasm she’s had up to date; she’d been with guys before, and other girls too, and sure, she’d played with herself, too, but it was nothing compared to this. Her legs shook for several moments afterward and she could swear she stopped breathing for a moment. 

Eventually, Nate grew concerned enough to check if she was still breathing. 

“Hey Princess. You still alive?” 

“Your clothes.” 

“What?” 

Rue didn’t explain. Impatient, she fumbles to grab the front of his shirt, pulling it off. Then she did the same with his pants and boxers. She pushed him down onto the sofa, climbing on top of him. She enjoyed the expression on his face as he shivered, her wet center brushing against his already erect cock. 

Words couldn’t express how much she hates him at this moment right now. hates that he had done this to her. hates how vulnerable he had left her. hates how he had essentially broken into her home, and violated her. 

Hates how much she enjoyed it. Hates how his fingers worked a magic on her that no one else, not even herself could do. Hates the smug expression on his face, like he knew he’d won and she’d lost. 

They stayed like this for several moments. Nate seemed to be in no hurry, for once in his life, and Rue was going to make him wait. If he was going to fucking do this to her, then he could wait a few fucking seconds while she got ready. 

“You have a condom?” She finally asks, voice raspy. 

“No.” 

“We can’t fuck without a condom.” It’s wearing off now; her voice comes out surly, like the same Rue she knew before. Not the traitor who came for Nate Jacobs about five minutes ago. She sighs. “Nate. Do you have one or not?” 

“Actually, Princess,” he smirks, “I thought we’d do this bareback. Give me an opportunity to feel that nice tight pussy of yours.” 

And with that, he grips her hips and slams her down onto his cock. His other hand comes up at that moment, locking around her mouth and jaw, as she lets out a muffled scream. He’s big, bigger than she can handle like this.

Pain, for a few brief moments. Then, she’s hit with pleasure. 

Soon, she was riding him without invitation, allowing his hands to roam up her body, pulling her dress and bra off her. Curses flew out of her mouth, mainly directed at Nate. 

He shifts them, pressing her down onto the sofa and she’s screaming louder now. His hands wrap around her neck, squeezing, and his mouth crashes onto hers. She tastes something coppery. 

“Is this how you wanted it to be?” He hisses in her ear. “Because I am enjoying this, Princess. Me having to force you. You spreading your legs open like a good little whore.” 

“I hate you,” she spits. He laughs, his hold on her neck tightening. 

“But you enjoy this don’t you?” 

Rue didn’t answer. Fucking asshole. If he didn’t have his hands around her throat, she’d already have tried to claw his face off by now. 

His hand found her clit, and she tenses as he flicks it, experimentally. At least the speed and intensity of his strokes has slowed somewhat, his dark eyes on her as he found the exact way she likes it. 

“Oh fuck, Nate,” 

“You like that, Princess?” 

“Fuck, I hate this,” it all comes pouring out at once. Years of seething hatred in one giant clusterfuck of anger and passion. “I fucking hate you! I hate the way you make me feel this way! I hate the fact that I like this! Wipe that fucking, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, right there.” 

She came, legs wrapped around his waist, unable to do much except gasp and curse him out. A moment later, he grunts, and he comes too. She can feel the warm liquid slide down her thigh, sticky, and when he pulls out, more of out it on the couch. He starts to pull on his shirt, pausing only to toss her discarded shirt her way.

She ignores it, eyes once again fixed on the TV with apathy. She only looks up again when she hears the back door slam and that’s when she breaks down. 

~:~


End file.
